FOXGLOVES
Pink-purple foxglovesLeaning to the breeze—And all the sweet of DevonSweeps back across the seas:The deep coombs of DevonWhere the tiny hamlets nest,The golden sea of DevonThat glimmers toward the west:The thatched roofs of DevonTo which the soft skies bend—Now the dear God keep DevonThe same to His world’s end!
Pink-purple foxglovesLeaning to the breeze—And all the sweet of DevonSweeps back across the seas:The deep coombs of DevonWhere the tiny hamlets nest,The golden sea of DevonThat glimmers toward the west:The thatched roofs of DevonTo which the soft skies bend—Now the dear God keep DevonThe same to His world’s end!
Pink-purple foxglovesLeaning to the breeze—And all the sweet of DevonSweeps back across the seas:
Pink-purple foxgloves
Leaning to the breeze—
And all the sweet of Devon
Sweeps back across the seas:
The deep coombs of DevonWhere the tiny hamlets nest,The golden sea of DevonThat glimmers toward the west:
The deep coombs of Devon
Where the tiny hamlets nest,
The golden sea of Devon
That glimmers toward the west:
The thatched roofs of DevonTo which the soft skies bend—Now the dear God keep DevonThe same to His world’s end!
The thatched roofs of Devon
To which the soft skies bend—
Now the dear God keep Devon
The same to His world’s end!